


Earthy Desires

by ACertainIdioticScientist



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anxiety, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Lesbian Character, M/M, Marijuana, Multi, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Christine Canigula, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Character, Trans Jeremy Heere, Trans Male Character, Underage Drinking, Violence, angel au, angel michael mell, loud screaming from the author, refrences to chrisianity and other religions, these boys gals and nonbinary pals are in for a ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACertainIdioticScientist/pseuds/ACertainIdioticScientist
Summary: Angels aren’t always the most innocent creatures. Just as humans, which many once were, they have desires and wants, needs even, that heaven almighty (how terrifying) frowns upon, even dealing punishment out for the more serious of offenses.Earthly desires vary in the degree of how screwed you are in the event that you’re caught. Getting a little drunk off your ass or higher than a kite? You’re probably fine, as long as the drugs aren’t that hard. Worst you’ll get from a little pot or booze is “a stern talking to” in the vein of the “we’re not mad, just disappointed” speech all parents give their kids one point in their lives.The worst thing, or well, one of the worst things you can do, is fall in love.





	1. Nothing is a Bigger Sin Than Nickelback

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first fanfiction for Be More Chill, despite being into it for quite a long time. 
> 
> Let me know if you have suggestions or feedback for this and future chapters! 
> 
> This was also beta read by dabritbookie!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Angels aren’t always the most innocent creatures. Just as humans, which many once were, they have desires and wants, needs even, that heaven almighty (how terrifying) frowns upon, even dealing punishment out for the more serious of offenses. 

Earthly desires vary in the degree of how screwed you are in the event that you’re caught. Getting a little drunk off your ass or higher than a kite? You’re probably fine, as long as the drugs aren’t that hard (weed, caffeine, the occasional ecstasy, ya know). Worst you’ll get from a little pot or booze is “a stern talking to” in the vein of the “we’re not mad, just disappointed” speech all parents give their kids one point in their lives if the higher-ups decide to be a buzzkill. 

The worst thing, or well, one of the worst things you can do, is fall in love. 

Platonic love is all fine and dandy, ya know, spread the love and all that. It's basically what the entire species is built around, so it's a given I guess. The love between angels is fine too, though it’s kinda strange, considering we all pretty much consider ourselves siblings. Kinda weird to fall in love with someone who’s basically your sib, so yeah...that is incredibly rare. 

Humans and angels though? That's some top tier shit. You can get dumped straight outta heaven and into Hades’ uncomfortably warm lap. Creepy guy, 0/10 on IMDB. Sometimes you just get knocked down a peg, have your wings removed, or be forced to sit in solitude for a decade or two, but that's when your judge is feeling oddly generous. 

Liking Nickelback would be a lesser sin.

Scratch that, nothing could ever be a worse sin than Nickelback.

Despite all this, you know what I just _HAD_ to do? Go and fall head over fuckin’ heels for the person I’m supposed to be watching over because that’s just peachy keen. So I’ve been a pining, idiot of an angel for…five years maybe? Sounds about right. 

Due to the nature of how deep I’d be in if headquarters (we’ll just call them that) got a whiff of this, only one person’s been able to know about it, and only because he’s deep in too. 

What is it with my class falling in love with humans, huh? We’ve already lost a couple from it, not to be seen again for several years. Luckily for them, it happened to be just a little crush, not a full on love. How lucky for them I guess. Yippee Skippy.

Anyways, proper introduction time.

 ~~It’s me, Michael Nathan Mell, ya boi.~~

Michael Mell, protector of Jeremiah Heere, 17 years old, and gayer than Elton John. PT Cruiser game strong. 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

The sound of an alarm reverberating through the almost stifling warmth of Michael’s basement bedroom, rising him from the lulling sleep he’d fallen into throughout his musings. Running a hand through the crimson feathers connected on his back, he willed himself to calm down. He’d been thinking about the Squip Incident (the squipcident if you will), and that night he’d spent crying his brains out in the now charcoaled bathroom of Jake’s old house. 

Even though it's been four months since the Keanu Reeves look-alike vacated Jeremy’s brain, and he’d finally been able to relax a little. 

The aftermath on Jeremy had to be the worst part of the whole thing. Vines of pink and white threaded along his back in the image of a lightning strike, a reminder of the Squip’s physical torture on the poor teen. That plus an added side of PTSD, increasingly high self-hatred, and a couple other issues he hadn’t divulged to his player one were weighing down heavily on the two, and their still-strained friendship. 

They’d been able to patch things up a bit, starting when the tall, acne-riddled teen showed up on his doorstep, apologizing profusely with tears rolling down his face. Directly after, they smoked a joint, cried some more, and ended up cuddling with each other on his full-sized bed.

Michael couldn’t really think about that last bit too much, it just made him feel like. Well.

_A loser._

Sighing heavily to no-one but himself, he forced himself up, rolling up his wings tight against his back, and throwing on some t-shirt laying at the foot of his bed, and the jeans he’s been wearing the past week and a half. He kinda smelled bad if he was being honest, so he grabbed the Febreeze spray he kept on the dresser by the door and doused himself in it. Relishing in the sweet scent of Hawaiian Tropic, he swiped up his phone from the bedside table, smiling at the photo he saw: a picture of the entire group, taken just a week ago while they were out grabbing frozen cappuccinos and hoagies from the WaWa just past the high school. A reminder to grab the shit he needed to handle the personal hell a la high school, a good morning from the group chat he was in, and that weird reminder telling him he needed to remember to take his meds and remind Jeremy to take his too. He didn't really need to remind the teen if he paid any mind to it; he wasn't Jeremy's babysitter, but he did it anyway.

So he shot off a text for Jer to take his pills, and swallowed down the ones he removed from the organizer on his nightstand, grimacing as the lacquered pills slide down his throat. 

_What kind of angel, what kind of guardian needs to take shit to feel okay, to do the duties he's born to do? A broken, shitty--_ He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind enough to let him back on track. _No,_ he thought, _It’s too early for you to get in one of your moods Mell._

Moving on through his routine, he readies himself, finishing the care with a loud spit of mouthwash into his bathroom sink, gagging exaggeratedly at the menthol tasting liquid. 

He grabs his red hoodie, the object that gave him just the right amount of comfort and confidence to live up to his reputation: the weird, oddly confident stoner kid who really liked music. Most just said Bob Marley, and while he did love some hella gnarly Marley, he had a broader library than just that.Slipping it over his head with ease, the boy throws the white headphones around his neck before bounding up the stairs into the kitchen. 

His Mom and Nanay sat around the table, musing slightly over the breakfast Laura had made. They regarded him with a smile, pushing his already dolled out breakfast towards him. 

“Good morning Miah, I hope you slept well,” Laura spoke, voice warm as she took in the shape of her son. Soft brown skin reflected the kitchen light in a way that shouldn’t have been possible, but it was glaringly obvious to her wife when she reached over to fix the messed hair on Michael’s head.

The boy squirmed, pushing her away with a playful laugh as he fixed his hair back to the way he liked it; without any kind of distinguishable style. “Good morning Mom, I slept okay I guess. How about you?” He paused long enough to slurp a large forkful of eggs into his mouth before continuing. “Oh, and Nanay, are we still doing that work picnic this weekend? If we are, can I invite Jeremy?” _Hoping he’s not too busy with Christine that is._

Mirasol laughed, not really expecting him to ask; Jeremy had just kinda been showing up to various family events and outings throughout the years, but none of them really minded. They enjoyed the company of their “second son”. “Sure Michael, he’s always welcome. Make sure you run it by Mr. Heere though, alright? I don’t really want a repeat of the Orchard Incident.” 

“I will. I’ve gotta get going, I’m supposed to pick up Jake and Rich today too, Love you,” Michael spoke, hurriedly shoving the rest of his breakfast down his throat, and downing the cup of orange juice in one go. Kissing each of them on their cheek, he grabbed his keys from the hook beside the cupboard, and jetted out to his faded blue baby, unlocking the car and sliding in with ease. 

It smelled a little like weed on the inside still, the cloth interior holding onto the smoke with a rueful vengeance. A couple of them had hot-boxed the car a few days ago, but he’d thought the five air fresheners smelling of lemon would drown it out. Not that it really mattered, no one in his life gave a damn about his smoking habits, provided he stayed smart about it and kept up his life outside of it. 

Checking the time on his phone quickly, he jams the keys into the ignition, smiling as the engine purred throughout the car, joined by the blasting of the stereo. Some alternative station Jeremy liked was still on, and he left it, figuring there wouldn’t be any use in changing it, as it would just change right back when the man got in the car. 

The drive to the Heere house was uneventful as always; he didn’t really notice it anymore, working more on autopilot than a conscious effort. 

As he pulled up, he was surprised to see the brunet waiting on his porch, hands buried in his cardigan with a nervous expression. Something was off. His worry spiked more when his hand was grabbed by a nervous vice, being squeezed as Jeremy got situated in the passenger’s side. 

Blue eyes locked with his, filled with a sadness he had become all too familiar with over the past year. “M-Michael..”

Grabbing him into his hoodie, the Filipino shushed him, cooing out comforts until he was certain the taller male, who currently had fist fulls of the fabric wasn’t about to go into a panic attack before he let him continue.

A sideways expression, somewhere between a grimace and determination settled on the freckled face as he spoke. 

“Michael, we n-need to talk.”


	2. The Jakey-D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Michael, we n-need to talk.”
> 
> Shit.
> 
> Shit.
> 
> A wave of fear rushed through his veins, coming to a rolling boil within his chest. His pulse pounding against his head, a distracting feeling that almost would have grounded him if he wasn’t feeling like a cement block in a backyard pool. Gripping harshly at his arms, he attempted to take a deep breath, small sobs pooling out of his lips. The uncomfortable rub of fabric against the cloth interior didn’t help matters much, just furthering his discomfort until Jeremy places a hand on his left cheek, raising the shaking boy to look at him, his own face one of worry and tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank all of you so much for your wonderful comments, kudos, and bookmarks! I was literally grinning nonstop! I'll be updating on this schedule from now on:
> 
> Monday, Wednesday, Saturday! 
> 
> This chapter was beta read by flourescentnightmare! 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Michael, we n-need to talk.”

Shit.

_Shit._

A wave of fear rushed through his veins, coming to a rolling boil within his chest. His pulse was pounding against his head, a distracting feeling that would have grounded him if he wasn’t feeling like a cement block in a backyard pool. Gripping harshly at his arms, he attempted to take a deep breath, small sobs pooling out of his lips. A confrontation was never an easy thing for the guy, especially not since the past October. The uncomfortable rub of fabric against the cloth interior didn’t help matters much, just furthering his discomfort until Jeremy placed a hand on his left cheek, raising the shaking boy to look at him, his own face one of worry and tears.

“S0-uh, J-Jeremy, what do we- cough- need to talk about?”, Michael whispered, trying and failing to keep his voice even and without panic. Brown spheres scrutinized the pale boy’s face, trying to search out as much information as he could. He couldn't tell whether this was about something he'd done, or something the other had done. Either way, he wasn't keen to find out.

Offering a hesitant smile, he takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Michael, I-,” he chokes out, voice low and raspy. “I am _so sorry_ ”

'Wait.' 

'What?' 

Confused, Michael’s nose turned up in a crinkle, all of his facial features betraying his inner thoughts. Angels were never that great at hiding emotions; honesty “it’s great importance” and all that shit a probable explanation for the tell. No matter the reasoning, it was annoying as hell.

“Jer, what in the world are you sorry for? Y-You have nothing to apol-”

“Shhhshshshsh. Sh. I’m sorry for interrupting, but if I, uh, don’t just g-go for it I’ll n-n-ever be able to get it out. I _really_ n-need to get this out, so maybe d-don’t interrupt? Okay Micah?” Jeremy pleaded, grasping his clammy hands onto the darker boy’s forearms, bitten down fingernails digging into the scarred tissue slightly.

Not really knowing how to react, or what was coming, his head just jerked in a pathetic nod. 

Shooting him a small smile filled with immense effort, Jeremy Heere began, filling the lemon-weed smelling air with a shaky, rasping voice.

“Listen, Michael, I am. So so sorry. For e-e-everything. Not being the best friend I can be, c-complaining so much, and most of all, the incident.” A pained gasp followed these words, but neither one could honestly say who it really came from.  
“T-T-The...T-The...It is the worst mistake I have e-ever made. I t-t-took you f-for granted, and-and I said all of those h-horrible things to you. I called you a _loser_...” his last word dripping with enough venom to make his companion flinch, tears finally ripping from his tear ducts.

“I know I d-don’t deserve another ch-chance, but you’re...the one thing I d-don’t think I can handle being without. You’re...You’re-- You’re _Michael_. M-My player one. My favorite p-person, and I want a chance to make things r-right, and be your best bud again. C-can I have t-that chance?”

When the beanpole was finished, his face was bright red with anxiety, breaths coming out in short bursts. Tear streaks had begun rolling down the acne and freckle ridden skin. Our angel was stunned, simply staring aghast at the boy in front of him, arms shaking. He didn’t know what to say and just ran one of his hands through his dark locks, a shaky sigh escaping him. 

Taking the lack of response as a bad sign, all of the colors drained from Jer’s face, his entire body tensing like he’d been electrocuted once again. He jerked back from Michael abruptly, making himself as small as possible against the car door, slowly reaching for the handle.

“I-I’m sorry, I-I don’t know why I even a-asked, I don’t d-deserve to be f-forgi-”

Snapping out of his daze, the shorter of the two grasped onto the other’s shoulders, squeezing perhaps a little harder than necessary.

“ _NO_. just, stop for a sec, okay? Breath with me, come on,” he cooed, taking a clammy hand into his slightly calloused ones, and placing it against his chest, so the other could feel the rise and fall of his own breathing. 

In near silence, they tried to calm themselves down, trying to retie their frayed emotions with the soft lull of the radio buzzing in their ringing ears. It was around ten minutes before their silence was broken, the edge of a sentence on dark pink lips. 

“Jeremy...You didn’t have to apologize to me again. I’ve...I haven’t forgotten what--. I know it wasn’t your fault Jer, the self-centered ios system _abused_ you.” 

Jeremy moved to object, eyes still crowded with pink blotches and crystal droplets, but it was canned with a withering glare.

“Don’t you dare try and tell me different. I know you, I know what it _did_ to you, the things it made you say to yourself like some sort of freaky cult oath. What matters is that you’re _trying._ You’re trying to be there again, to be the Jer you were before, and that is utterly amazing. You’re so strong and just-- don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? I love ya man.”

The crying sparrow launched himself into his best friend’s arms, burying himself deep in the scent of weed and fabreeze. Sobs still thrusted through his petite form as he clutched onto the worn red article like it was his only tether to the earth.

They stayed this way for a while, just holding each other through the emotional waves, drying tears on hoodies and cardigans. 

It was nice, maybe even peaceful.

That is, until a very obnoxious version of Bootylicious sang by their very own Richard Goranski rang out through the car, causing the passengers to jump and scramble to find the source of the agony, blushes lining their cheeks. They found it hidden in the glovebox behind what seemed to be an entire restaurant’s supply of napkins and leftover rolling papers, and answered Rich’s call quickly.

“H-Hel-- Uhm. Hey daffy fuck,” Michael stuttered, attempting to fix his face in the rearview. 

“Hey headphonesth, where in the actua l _fuck_ are you. We’re gonna be late.”

Brown eyes flickered down to the dash clock with a curse, leaning away from Jeremy and fastening his seatbelt in a hurry, signaling the other to do the same.

“Holy fuck, I’m so sorry, we’re on our way now, our emotions decided now was the time to be a fuck all. On the way home, sev-elev, my treat.”

“Fuck yeah!” Rich’s voice shifted away from the phone, obviously yelling behind him, “JAKE, MICHAEL’STH ON HISTH WAY! STHEV-ELEV AFTER STHCHOOL”

A faint “sweet bro” could be heard through the line, before it cut, neither of them bothering with a goodbye. Sweeping his hair back from his face again, the Filipino grasped the shift, moving them into drive and speeding out from the Heere’s driveway at maybe the slightest bit over the speed limit. 

Well, more like, fifty-five, which was only like, twenty over the limit. White knuckles grasped at the handle above the passenger’s seat in the hopes that it’d decrease the likelihood of certain death as he cranked up the radio to calm his nerves.

When they reached Jake and Rich’s shared apartment, Michael quite literally laid on the horn, slumping over in an exhausted breath. The odd couple exited soon after, Rich’s scars shining a bit in the early morning sun, and Jake’s limp a little less pronounced than normal. The two already in the car smiled at this improvement in the two; they knew how hard it was for them to recover and be confident in themselves. None of them were quite there yet, but things were going fairly well. Upon entering the car they exchanged greetings:  
“Sup hoes”  
“Hey broskis!”  
“Sup Rich, hey Jake.”  
“Mornin!”  
and Rich immediately began chatting up Jeremy over the conversation he’d had with Christine the night before about whether or not Mosquitoes had a systematic hierarchy. This left the other two shaking their heads, and talking languidly to one another, not that they minded. They’d known each other for the same amount of time he’d known Jeremy, and Jake had known Rich. 

Michael caught Jake’s eyes in the mirror, sending a small message to him via telepathy, something he didn’t have too much control over. But the look in Jake’s eyes made him feel fairly confident that he’d be receiving a Skype call from the fellow angel that night. It was nice to have someone as deep in love as he was to rant to, especially as they’d have no way to expose him even if they wanted to because then they’d just be punished as well. 

They arrived at the high school, piling out with thanks to Michael, and a promise to meet up at four in the parking lot for their apology trip to Seven Eleven. 

Jeremy and Michael shared the first few of their classes, and walked together in comfortable silence towards their first period: AP European History, occasionally one of them making a comment about whatever was on the front page of Discovery, or something concerning the rumor about Dustin Kropp and this kid Kleinman from a few towns over. Despite the occasional rumor passing, neither of them had nearly as much interest in being a gossip monger as Jenna or even Rich really, it was far too exhausting and not really all the interesting. 

The two arrived at Mr. Hensenberg’s class, trudging to the farthest left corner desk, made for partners to sit at. Their bags dropped to the floor with a thump, neither bothering to root out their textbooks until they were told whether or not they’d need them today. Hensenberg had a reputation around the school for being “spontaneous” meaning that his class basically had no structure at all.  
“So, you wanna come over after the sev-elev run? Play some video games or somethin,” Michael asked, throwing a cautionary glance towards Jeremy from his phone, still a little wary from this morning. Jer looked up with a weird face, seemingly considering before giving a wide grin, allowing himself to slouch back a bit in the dark blue plastic. He still didn’t slouch much, his muscles instinctively afraid of the repercussions they’d faced before. Michael smiled at his posture.

“Sure Micah, I-I have to meet up with C-Christine for an h-hour to exchange n-notes on our Chem project, but I’ll be right by around f-five?” Jeremy spoke, face stretched into a large, excited grin. 

Michael’s expression faltered at the mention of Christine, Jeremy’s girlfriend. It wasn’t like he didn’t like Christine, he did, I mean, she was almost impossible to dislike with all of her bubbly chatter and excitement. It’s just--It’s hard to be close with the person dating the person you’ve been in love with for the past five years. He quickly fixed his face into a smile, excited at the prospect of hanging out like old times. Maybe they could even smoke some of the new strain he bought, loosen up a bit. 

“Yeah bro! It’ll be hype.”

They fell into silence, listening to Mr. Hensenberg drone on about Louis the XIV for the next hour or so. Michael kept sneaking little glances towards the Jewish man next to him, marveling at the adorable sight of his concentrated expression. The way his tongue peeked out of his slightly chapped lips, and the way his thick brows flitted down when he was annoyed with an answer or reading segment. 

Michael couldn’t stop the light pink from appearing on his skin, and he huffed, quietly burying himself beneath the collar of his hoodie. He’d already read this chapter anyway. 

When the bell rang, they repeated their system, walking to class, and Michael sneaking glances for two more periods until they diverged. Michael scooted off to his car to spend lunch there, and Jeremy went off to Chemistry. They’d tried to get the same lunch, but Michael was the only one unable to, his computer science class only happening fourth, giving him the first of four periods. Michael didn’t really mind that much though he found. Sure, he’d like to spend time with his friends, but the quiet lull of music echoing through his headphones as he sat at one of the small patio tables of the convenience store allowed him time to think, to rest. Smiling softly, he allowed himself to stretch out, taking care to keep his wings furled, a gentle sigh seeping out. 

Maybe today would be a good day after all.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The loud-ass ringing of the bell rose Michael from his thoughts on the horrors of Trigonometry, and he quickly moved to flee from the room, throwing on his headphones and barely remembering to grab his stuff. Somehow Rich and Jake were already waiting at his car, Rich perched on the trunk, while Jake stood to the side, leaning slightly to take the pressure off his legs. He wasn’t sure how they always managed to beat him to his own car, but knowing them, he wasn’t sure he wanted to either. 

“Get in losers, we’re going shopping,” Michael mocked, putting extra emphasis on his accent as he unlocked the Cruiser and slid into the driver’s seat. 

Jake catapulted over the top practically, shouting “SHOTGUN” as he pushed the Rich out of the way, causing the shorter man to stumble slightly. 

“AW JAKE COME ON!’

“Ya snooze ya lose rooster boy,” he chuckled, pulling at the dyed streak of red in Rich’s hair until the all muscled mass of five feet smacked his hands away with a pout, cheeks puffed out in aggravation. 

“Enough you homos. Seven Eleven, not WaWa right?” Michael asked, turning the keys in the ignition, subtly running his fingers over the little “player 1” controller charm hanging off his ring. Jeremy had given it to him as a little gift during Hanukkah last year, keeping the matching for himself. A barely audible sigh ran from between his teeth, and his brother sends a soft look his way.

“Yeah Mike, I wanna stuff my stomach with a Double Gulp,” the taller angel laughed, fist-pumping at the mere idea of it. He had an _unhealthy_ obsession with diet pepsi, but it was better than the alternative. Until recently he’d get drunk off his ass to handle his pining, downing whiskey after tequila and all sorts of hard shit. He’d almost lost his wings over that; his life too. Diet Pepsi was his attempt at replacing it, going into his own self-administered rehab. 

Michael was definitely proud of him, and he grabbed his shoulder in a soft squeeze, glancing gratefully his way. “Sounds like a plan Jakey-D.”

Jake’s expression faltered as soon as the nickname left Michael’s mouth, the rooster popping up from the backseat with a shit-eating grin. 

“You know why they call him Jakey-D?”

“RICH, I SWEAR TA GO-”

“BECAUSE EVERYONE WANTSTH HISTH JAKEY-D!”  
Loud groans filled the car, and he silently cranked up the radio to drone out their bickering. He thought he might be getting too old for this shit.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After Michael and the other two finished their excursion, he dropped the two off at their apartment and drove himself back home, the driveway absent of his moms’ cars. Parking in the garage and leaving room for his Nanay’s Mercedes, he entered through the door within. The brunet rushed through the kitchen, quickly taking a glance at the stove clock. 

4.30, he still had some time. 

Skipping steps several at a time, he raced into his bedroom, ripping off his t-shirt and unfurling the cramped feathers. A relieved groan filled the room, along with the sound of quick flapping as he tried to destress the aching limbs. He looked forward to this all day. It wasn’t easy making wings look invisible underneath clothing. 

Dropping back into his red beanbag, he swiped his laptop up from its place stuffed under his bed and started up Skype. Wincing a little at the feeling of material against the sensitive flesh, he called up Jake. While the little blue screen waited for an answer, he fished out a Crystal Pepsi from his stash and took a long swig. 

_Ah, the nineties. What a time it must have been to be alive._

“Am I interrupting something?” Jake mewled from the speakers, smirking around his straw. His wings of dandelion were stretched out as well, and he looked just as thankful for it as Michael did. 

Michael sputtered in response, struggling to keep the clear liquid from projecting out of his lips. On the screen was Jake laughing harshly, clutching his belly at the poor sight. 

“GAH,” he gasped, clutching his neck after everything had slid down his throat. “Shut up man, Rich out?”

“Yeah, he went to work out at the gym downtown. Said he "couldn’t miss leg day", then winced and ran out the door. He’s such a geek.’ But his voice held no malice, just dreamy affection. 

Boy were they in deep.

“Good. I’ve got a little bit of time before Jer gets here, I think he was meeting _her_ for something Chem related before he came in,” he scowled, wrapping his arms around himself for a little bit of comfort. Swiping a handful of Funyuns into his mouth, he gave another groan. “He did an apology thing in the car again today.”

A comforting hum resounded, followed by a slurp urging him on.

“Kept talking about how he didn’t deserve me and---”

The boys kept rambling, the crimson-winged one unaware of the key turning in the lock above him, and a certain Heere entering his home quietly, careful not to disturb his moms’ should they be home by chance. Throwing his shoes by the door, he checked his clock. 4:40, he was early. 

Eh, Michael was accepting him anyway.

He made his way down the stairs, steps light and near soundless, a residual effect on his posture. _It_ made sure he knew that no one liked a heavy stepper. He entered through the open door, to something he could never have imagined: Michael Mell, sitting on a beanbag, with wings.

WINGS. 

_WINGS._

All of his bags dropped to the ground, causing Michael’s head to snap towards Jeremy, taking in the man’s aghast expression. 

“DUDE, WHAT THE HELL?”

Michael, even with his blood running cold, tried suppressed a snicker, “Quite the opposite actually.”


	3. Pscho Doctor-Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell me I’m hallucinating. There’s n-not actually wings on your back.”
> 
> “You’re hallucinating. There’s no wings on my back.”
> 
> Jeremy gave Michael a withering glare, picking up the bags sprawled out on the floor. He drops them onto Michael’s bed, before dropping himself next to them with no grace whatsoever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever since I've uploaded, but this story is being continued! 
> 
> I'm so sorry for making you guys wait!

“Tell me I’m hallucinating. There’s n-not actually wings on your back.”

“You’re hallucinating. There’s no wings on my back.”

Jeremy gave Michael a withering glare, picking up the bags sprawled out on the floor. He drops them onto Michael’s bed, before dropping himself next to them with no grace whatsoever. 

“Spill it Mell, what the actual f-fuck is going on,” he spits, still looking at Michael with wide eyes. Jeremy can’t believe what he’s being faced with. It all seems like some sort of cliche teen romance novel with vampires and shit...except Michael is the “and shit”, because he’s pretty sure his bestie’s not a vampire.

“It’s--It’s exactly like you said man, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Wings? I mean come on, what even are wings anyways, right,” Michael tries, obviously very uncomfortable and stressed about his situation. His inner monologue would put any fucking sailor’s vocabulary to shame. 

“Michael, please. I know I’m n-not hallucinating. T-Trust me, this is w-way too tame,” the lanky boy speaks, giving a bitter laugh to tail the end of his sentence. “So please, j-just tell me w-what’s going on.” 

Resigned, Michael cautiously approached Jeremy, taking the side next to him not occupied by bags. Running a hand through his hair, he slumped a small bit, trying to calm his nerves a bit before speaking. This was exactly everything the angel wanted to avoid, and almost everything he had nightmares about. With a deep breath, he started. 

“So basically, I’m your guardian angel. I was sent from heaven, headquarters, wherever the fuck you wanna call it, to help you throughout your life. To keep you safe, keep you happy, and support you with whatever you need. You’re not supposed to know about it though,” he laughed, looking over to Jeremy for some kind of reassurance, even though he didn’t really expect to receive any. 

Jeremy sat beside him with a puzzled look on his face. Nothing more, and nothing less that Michael could decipher; he just looked confused. 

“So it doesn’t matter t-that I’m J-Jewish right? Also I have more questions, but c-can I touch your w-wings w-while you answer? I c-can’t believe th-these are real, and I have the strongest urge to touch them,” Jeremy rambled, inching closer to Michael’s side, keeping his arms low as his face flushed up a bit with nerves. 

“No Jeremy, everyone gets a guardian angel no matter what the hell they believe in, and--”

“It’s true bro, Rich’s agnostic and I’m still his feather back guide-man,” Jake pops in, still slurping on his straw.

“JAKE,” Jeremy screams, pushing his way into the computer chair at the Filipino’s desk. “You’ve got w-wings too, holy shit. How many of you are th-there? Does Rich know?”

“There’s tons of us Jere-bear, I don’t know how many though. Rich doesn’t know. We’re not really supposed to tell our wards we’re their angels, or that guardian angels actually exist. Like, you and I are not supposed to be having this convo right now I can one-hundred percent confirm. I’m gonna head so you can Mikey can finish your convo. See ya tomorrow,” Jake spoke, quickly answering his questions and peacing out so as not to intrude on their conversation, or take away Michael’s place as the one to explain things to Jeremy.

As Jake’s screen faded from the monitor, the boy resting in the chair swivels back to see Michael, who stayed ringing his hands together through Jake’s speaking time. “Alright, sorry for th-the interruption, I forgot he w-was on the screen.”

“It’s alright man, I get that this is all probably pret-ty confusing, yeah? So, uh, touching my wings. That’s a weird thing to ask an angel, but you’re my best bud, so it’s okay for me I guess? I probably wouldn’t ask Jake to do that though,” Michael spoke, turning around to give Jeremy access to the limbs protruding from his spine. The digits were still quite sore from their confinement earlier in the day, but he wasn’t going to tell the boy know. He was nervous, of course, as wings are one of the most sensitive parts of an angel’s form, but he trusted Jeremy enough to grin and bear the discomfort he might have. 

“So, come on then. What other questions do you have?”

The Jewish man plops himself behind his best bud, spreading out his legs around the other’s back. Softly, he reaches out and tangles his fingers within the blooming red feathers. A happy hum leaves Jeremy’s tongue, pleased at the texture he’s feeling. One similar to it rests on Michael’s lips.

“So, have you a-actually been w-with me practically my e-entire life, or is th-this like some memory re-replacement mumbo-j-jumbo,” Jeremy asked, continuing to explore the curves and innards of the limbs before him. He let his hands move like a weaver’s, creating new memory yarns of Michael’s new image, swirling down to the base. Red faded softly into light brown skin, a hue uniquely his, which brought a bit of a smile to the boy’s face. 

‘Of course it would be that,’ he thought, ‘it’s exactly the color I’d put on a Michael moodboard or something.’ 

He brushed his fingers along the bone leading into the skin, causing Michael, who until then was just enjoying the gentle caresses as he thought of his response, let out a low groan. Confused, Jeremy repeated the motion twice more, Michael giving a harsh squeak before he reached back to grab the wrists on his back. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. T-Too low bud. Let’s stay a bit higher, yeah?,” Michael coughed, composing himself before he resumed talking about the serious topic at hand. Jeremy just nodded, and moved his hands up to continue feeling the feathers. 

“I’ve actually been with you as long as you remember me being there. We get put with our assignment early on so we get to grow up with them. My moms are angels too, but when you and your ward get to be adults, usually we’re not as needed, so we get to do our own shit after a while. Hence, they had me, and when I was assigned, we moved to New Jersey. All of your memories are totally unaltered---at least by me,” he finished, a happy lit to his voice. While incredibly terrifying, it was nice to have one of the biggest burdens off of his back.

“Th-This is so neat Mikey! Like, wh-whoa man, I’m like some damn a-anime protagonist. W-Wonder what my th-theme song’s g-gonna be,” he joked, ceasing his exploration of Michael’s wings for now. 

Turning around rather quickly, the dark-skinned teen grabbed onto the paler wrist in front of him. “On a serious note though, you can’t tell anyone about this. Not Rich, not Christine, no one. If word gets out about me, I could be killed. And I’d rather not die just yet, because I just ordered some new NES games yesterday,” He spoke, trying to convey the extreme importance of Jeremy’s secrecy. 

After a nod from him, Michael leaps up from on the bed to one of his bean bags, and picks up the two NES controllers laying in front of them. “Speaking of games, how about we beat the fuck out of some zombie beavers?”

“Oh hell yeah!”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three hours flew quickly with button smashing and annoyed screeches, until they’d finally beat the last ten levels of the game. Sighing in pure victory, Michael tossed his control onto the floor before standing up in a stretch. Jeremy followed suit with the controller, but stayed seated, just burying himself a little deeper into the bead-filled fabric. 

“This calls for a celebration,” Michael hummed, reaching into his top drawer to grab a couple joints and his pride lighter. “Wanna light up?”

“Isn’t th-this like a sin or something,” Jeremy mused, reaching out for the joint anyways.

“Nah, everyone likes to get high sometimes. Even if it was, who the hell cares. 420 all the way, bitch.” Rolling his eyes, Jeremy snatched the lighter away from Michael, and lit the end of his joint. Taking a deep draw, he exhaled a cloud of puffy white onto Michael. “Shut up and puff up Micha.”

Still snickering, the angel brought his joint between his lips before connecting it to the end of Jeremy’s. Slowly, the end of the paper caught ablaze, and he was good to go. Repeating Jeremy’s puff, he let it go as an exaggerated sigh, throwing himself over Jeremy’s lap. 

“You know if your leg got cut off you’d still feel pain in your leg, even though you don’t have your leg anymore because phantom pain’s a bitch.”

“Big mood, but f-fair I guess.”

“You know it’s not just humans who feel that shit either. Like tons of species have been documented with phantom pain.” 

“Oh really?? Th-that’s so neat. Tell me more,” Jeremy spoke, spitting out a stray feather that had landed in his mouth. “You’re f-fucking shedding.”

“Get rekt scrub.”

Michael launched into a big lesson on phantom pain, what it is, and why its theorized that different species experiment it. By the time he had finished, Jeremy and Michael had moved to the bed, Jeremy once again feeling the crimson beneath his fingers. 

“Th-That’s so cool Mikey, you should--be one of th-those...animal doctors, but not like doctor doctors, like th-the psycho doctor doctors.”

“Maybe, I already am kinda psycho,” Michael snorted, curling up into his pillow next to him. A comfortable silence enveloped the two, only broken by soft snores emanating from behind Michael. Jeremy had fallen asleep on him, fingers still tangled in his wings. Not that he minded that much. He was happier than he had been in a while, and it felt nice to be doted on a bit. 

Sleep sounded pretty nice to him too. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Quietly, the door to the basement opened slightly. Michael’s moms stood behind the wooden surface, peeking in to see if the boys were doing alright. It was late. Their plans had taken them a lot longer than they’d anticipated, but they knew Michael and likely Jeremy would be alright on their own. Laura had to suppress her quiet awe at seeing the two boys curled up together, asleep. It wasn’t too unusual for them to end up like this, especially if weed was involved, but it always made her heart happy to see the boys so relaxed. 

Mirasol looked over her shoulder, but her reaction was less mundane. Quickly, a hand shot over her mouth, as she took in the red feathers of her son spread over Jeremy. Even more so when she saw the pale boy’s hands intertwined with the red. 

Shutting the door as easily as she could, she guided her wife to sit at their table, gathering her hands to rest in her own. “Laura, baby, Jeremy knows.”

“Oh my poor boys,” she exclaimed, tightening her hold on her wife’s hand. “This was never supposed to happen to them. What the hell are we supposed to do?”

“Magiging maayos ang lahat, darling. You can’t tell me you didn’t expect for the two to fall in love anyway. They’ve been inseperable for years, it’s no wonder Jeremy finally found out,” Mirasol shushed, trying to console some of the worry within her partner’s mind. “He probably walked in on the boy and Jake speaking. They’ll figure it out. So will we. But we can’t breathe a word of this.”

“Absolutely. You’re right my heart, let’s sleep. We have a lot to come once morning hits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New upload schedule is Wednesday, Friday, Sunday if I can manage it! I'm in university now, so time is a bit more scarce!


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